


Some Refugee Beside Itself

by vaarsuvius



Category: Densetsu no Yuusha no Densetsu | The Legend of the Legendary Heroes
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 04:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaarsuvius/pseuds/vaarsuvius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Miran Froaude delicately sets a tray of food on Sion Astal’s desk that will stay there untouched until noon when a servant will come and take it away. Sion doesn't look up from his paperwork for even a moment. There’s too much to be done and no time to spend eating, but Miran brings it anyway because it’s the principle of the thing that counts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Some Refugee Beside Itself

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a semi-AU where all the main plot threads of the series end up resolved happily and Sion rules over a peaceful united continent.
> 
> **Content/trigger warning for an implied suicide.**

"Good morning, your majesty."

Miran Froaude delicately sets a tray of food on Sion Astal’s desk that will stay there untouched until noon when a servant will come and take it away. Sion doesn't look up from his paperwork for even a moment. There’s too much to be done and no time to spend eating, but Miran brings it anyway because it’s the principle of the thing that counts.

It's a tricky thing, running a country in the middle of a war, and Miran knows well that Sion has yet more on his plate than that. Miran is in and out of the office all day and when he finally says a short ‘goodnight’ before closing the door he knows Sion will be in the same place when he returns tomorrow.

-

"Good morning, your majesty."

Miran Froaude delicately sets a tray of food on Sion Astal’s desk and the king nods his appreciation before taking a small roll and nibbling at it. There’s a lot of work to be done running a newly united continent but Sion is holding up admirably, Miran thinks. Sion doesn’t finish all the food, gets distracted by a new stack of paperwork before he can finish, but it’s a start.

Miran spends most of the day taking messages back and forth and if it’s a bit more mundane than the work he’s used to he doesn’t say anything to Sion’s face. it’s as if a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders and he’s shining brighter than ever, and the last thing Miran wants to do is burden Sion with useless complaints. Sion is still in his office when Miran retires for the night but Miran knows he’s actually been sleeping these days, if only for a few hours. The king has an old friend on full time duty warming his bed now and it’s a far more welcoming place than it ever was before.

-

"Good morning, your majesty."

Miran Froaude sets a tray of food on Sion Astal’s desk with slightly weakening hands. Sion smiles and puts his paperwork aside to eat. Things have slowed down considerably in Roland and the king actually eats three square meals a day now. Though lines are starting to cross his face he’s radiant as ever, especially when he smiles, something he’s also been doing more often lately.

Miran’s workload is increasingly light but a country of this size always has things that need doing, so he’s able to busy himself until Sion dismisses him for the day. Sion has more work on his plate now that his attention is divided raising an heir, so Miran happily picks up the slack. Both of them get a solid eight hours of sleep a night these days, which Miran would have silently resented a bit before but now appreciates like he never thought he would. He never anticipated he’d live this long and his body isn’t what it used to be.

-

"Good morning, your majesty."

Miran Froaude sets a tray of food on Sion Astal’s desk for the last time, because tomorrow the desk will belong to someone else. After a long and eventful reign Sion is stepping down from the throne at a ripe old age, and his son is going to take over. The previous day, Sion asked Miran what he intended to do now, to which Miran could only respond "whatever you wish of me." Sion didn’t like that answer and he’s giving Miran a pained look over his small breakfast.

"You’re old too," he says, "You deserve some rest. The Froaude estate still belongs to you, or if you don’t want to live in that house you can easily sell it and buy a different place."

Miran’s expression doesn’t change and he simply says "If that’s what you’d like me to do."

He spends the rest of the day helping Sion clean his personal effects out of his office. Though he’s worked in this room for decades, there are no traces of Miran’s presence in this room nor in the room in the palace that he’s stayed in for all this time. He came with nothing and he leaves with nothing, feels nothing when Sion closes the door behind them one last time.

-

Miran Froaude eats a plain breakfast alone in a house he finds for himself on the outskirts of Roland’s capitol city. The Froaude estate was too large for one man to live in by himself so he took Sion’s advice and sold it to move in here. This place is considerably smaller, though still a bit too large for his tastes. The neighborhood is pleasantly quiet and his property is shaded by an ancient oak tree. It’s all very idyllic and peaceful. He lives here for a full year before he becomes very, very tired.

Sion comes to visit him sometimes, though he hasn’t been over in a few months. There’s not much for them to talk about anymore. Their glory days are long over, and Miran has never cared much for reminiscing about the past. Inevitably they do no more than sit in silence for a short while before Sion clears his throat and says he should be getting back to his family. There's an implication in there somewhere when he says that and looks around Miran's quiet, empty house. Sion always looks strangely regretful then and it makes Miran's stomach turn. When Miran looks at Sion these days all he can see is a pale shade of the brilliant man he once was. 

Miran can only imagine what he himself must look like now, if someone like Sion has fallen so far. Where does the time go, he wonders to himself as he sits on the edge of his bed and gazes unseeing at his own papery thin hands. He can't recognize this as himself. He never meant to make it all the way here.

-

Sion Astal receives a package at his door early in the morning, around the time he used to wake up when he was king. It’s nostalgic to be up so early. He thanks the delivery worker and takes the package inside. When he opens it and finds only a worn black ring he knows what’s happened and his heart sinks.

They bury Miran in a soldier’s grave, miles and miles away from the Froaude mausoleum. His ring is buried with him—there’s no need for such things in the world Sion created. In the world Miran helped him create. The funeral is a private affair and Sion can count the people there on one hand—aside from him and Ryner, only Claugh Klom has shown up and he’s left his wife at home out of respect for her wish to not attend the funeral of a man who tried to murder her, no matter how long ago. There aren’t many people who were ever on anything resembling good terms with this man.

No one has any words to say. Sion tries to find something from the many years he worked with Miran but nothing comes to mind but limp, meaningless words that Miran would scoff at if he were here. The truth settles uncomfortably over the group, that no words will be said because there are none to say. No one knew the man in this grave.

The silence becomes deafening and Claugh is the first to speak up to say that he needs to be home. Sion lets him go and Ryner follows not long after. Sion stands by the grave for a very long time, until it gets dark and Ryner comes back to take him home.

Sion goes back alone the next day, early in the morning, because he’s found the words he was looking for. His throat is dry so he mouths the two short syllables more than speaks them, but the dead can’t hear anyway and it’s the principle of the thing that counts.

When he goes home Ryner brings him his breakfast and looks sleepily at him over the table.

"Good morning, your majesty."

Sion smiles and says, "Thank you."

**Author's Note:**

> title derived from the sufjan stevens song 'from the mouth of gabriel,' from the lyrics 'don't be afraid of loneliness / some refugee beside itself / instead of what you've got'


End file.
